


Speak Low If You Speak Love

by il_mio_capitano



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Romance, Shakespeare Quotations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/il_mio_capitano/pseuds/il_mio_capitano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluffy happy-ending Buffy/Giles shipping fic. it's high time someone took measures to get the bickering pair together. Dawn and Andrew borrow from the classics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak Low If You Speak Love

Title: **Speak Low If You Speak Love**  
Author: il_mio_capitano  
Rating: Universal. Not even any bad language  
Setting: Buffy/Giles Post Chosen England.  
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Written for love not money. I'm quoting Shakespeare Sonnet 57, but he's unlikely to sue me.

Written as a present for lynnylou who wanted fluff, happy ending Buffy/Giles. First date leading to first kiss.

Special Thanks to littleotter73 for incredible betaing, proof reading, pushing, cajoling and encouraging skills. We honestly wouldn’t have this fic without her.

 

**Speak Low If You Speak Love**

_Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,_  
_As we do trace this alley up and down,_  
_Our talk must only be of Benedick._  
_When I do name him, let it be thy part_  
_To praise him more than ever man did merit:_  
_My talk to thee must be how Benedick_  
_Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter_  
_Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,_  
_That only wounds by hearsay._

Act III Scene i Much Ado About Nothing

  
  
**Act One Scene One** ****

Dawn Summers walked into the kitchenette of the Slayer school and shared a knowing look with Andrew Wells. He was working on some research on the table but the main focus was the noise coming in from the gym next door. Wednesday afternoons in the Victorian school commandeered by the new Council had become an effective free period whereby staff and students alike would flee into the English countryside and towns. It had just happened that way with no curriculum planning largely because nobody enjoyed being around on Wednesday afternoons because of the awkwardness. Wednesday afternoons had become notorious as the time Giles and Buffy trained.

_“You’re dropping your left shoulder again.”_

_“Oh live with it Giles. I’ve saved the world with this dropped shoulder.”_

_“I know you have but there are always things you can still learn.”_

_“Learn this.”_ There followed quite a serious sounding exchange of blows.

Their angry voices drifted easily through the open skylight windows to the kitchenette. Dawn pulled juice from the refrigerator and sat next to Andrew.

“They should just get a room,” she whispered.

“They’ve got a room. They don’t do anything with it but argue,” he whispered back.

Buffy’s shouting proved his point. “ _You should get Willow to rebuild the Buffybot. You two would be perfect together. Nothing but a machine.”_

_“At least she was programmed to listen. You gave up sometime after ‘Hello I’m Mister Giles’.”_

_“That’s because you’ve done nothing but screw up my life since ‘Hello I’m Mister Giles’. Why would I want to listen to anything further you have to say?”_

“We need to do something about this,” said Dawn quietly. “We need to get them off-campus and talking about something else for a change.”

“Agreed.” Andrew smiled. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Dawn nodded. Andrew rose, quietly put a chair against the wall and climbed stealthily to reach the high adjoining window just as Buffy unleashed another verbal attack.

_“Aren’t you in Watcher heaven with all these new slayers? There are hundreds of girls now. Go bother them with your training and your dropped shoulders. Why bug me all the time?”_

_“Because you need the practice.”_

_“I do not need to practice and I certainly do not need to practice with you.”_

_“Fine. Just don’t come running to me when you get yourself killed.”_

_“Your nagging will be the death of me first, Giles.”_

The door could be heard slamming.  Andrew ducked down and mouthed “Buffy has gone but Giles is just there.” and pointed to just behind the thin wall. He slipped down and gave Dawn a thumbs-up before saying with just the right amount of volume so his voice would be heard in the next room:

“Poor Mr Giles. I can’t believe how badly your sister treats him sometimes.”

Dawn fought a giggle and joined in loudly, “Hey it’s not all her fault. He can be pretty prickly. I mean, if they struck medals for snark Giles would make the podium every time.”

“Can’t he see that Buffy is totally into him? She’d never act that way otherwise.”

“How do you know that?” Dawn accused, “She can’t have told you?”

“No but anyone with half a heart can see how she feels,” Andrew spoke gravely to the direction of the skylight.

“Well,” declared Dawn conspiratorially, “She’s not actually said anything out loud to me but it’s all in her diary. Apprently her attraction to him has been building for a couple of years from what I’ve read. She wrote how sexy she’s starting to find him. How attractive to her he is.”

“Well he is pretty handsome, and so very tall.”

“Oh gorgeous.” Dawn stifled another giggle. “Buffy wrote he was gorgeous and how she wanted to jump Giles’ bones every time they train together.”

Andrew seemed lost in a daydream. “He is rather dreamy.” So Dawn slapped his attention back by punching him lightly on the arm. He refoccsed. “Right, yes. That’s pretty dangerous isn’t it? All that pent up Slayer passion. You know what Slayers are like when they have an idea. She must be going crazy with desire.”

Dawn frowned at where he was taking the conversation but added cautiously, “Hence all the tension when they train together.”

Andrew nodded sagely. “Unresolved Sexual Tension. Totally.”

Dawn shook her head at him and opted to steer the conversation to safer waters.

“She wrote that she wished he were less shy and be more… more…” She hunted for an appropriate word.

“Forceful?” suggested Andrew doubtfully.

Dawn scowled at him. “Romantic. Certainly less predictable about things,” she appended.

“She wants him to sweep him off her feet?”

“Exactly,” agreed Dawn. “She wants him to be more assertive but she’ll never say anything of course. I only found out by accident. If only he wasn’t such a jerk and would just spend some time with her. He should take her out someplace nice.”

“Oh. Oh. Oh.” Andrew had a genuinely sudden idea. “She told me her all time favourite Shakespeare play is on in Stratford-upon-Avon. What a pity she hasn’t got anyone to go with her.”

Dawn’s eyebrows were through her hairline. She mouthed “ _Buffy and Shakespeare? Are you insane?_ ”

“I know someone in the box office. It’d be possible to get tickets. Poor Buffy,” he sighed, possibly over dramatically. “She just wants a certain someone to take her.”

Dawn sighed too and fell silent. After a minute, they heard the satisfyingly faint click of the gymnasium door, almost as if someone were trying to close it and not attract attention to themselves as an eavedropper as they left.  
  
  
  
  
**Act One Scene Two** ****

Buffy had stalked out of the school and into the grounds from some fresh air. “Impossible man!” she declared to some startled blackbirds. She kicked at some tree roots. “What does he want from me? Is saving the world not enough for him? Now I have to go for the judges’ style points as well?”

She threw herself down behind her favourite oak tree and leaned her back against its solid embrace. Ever since she and Dawn had moved to England to help with the Slayer training school, Giles had just acted like he had an enormous ‘I’m Head Watcher so do as I say’ pole up his butt. He thought he still had something to teach her? She’d kicked his ass in High School constantly and she had barely been trying. Maybe he had a death wish or was just kinky about having her slap him around?

She giggled at that thought but stopped sharply when she heard voices. Wednesday afternoons were usually pretty quiet as everyone seemed to head out to town. She squeezed back against the tree in no mood for company. It was Andrew and Dawn of course. They spent way too much time together. They were speaking quietly and Buffy couldn’t help herself from straining to overhear.

 _“Oh god,”_ she heard Dawn say, _“I can’t believe that of Giles.”_

 _“He doesn’t want Buffy to know, of course.”_ Andrew sounded very grave and responsible.

 _“No, well,”_ Dawn sniffed. _“I mean, she’d just laugh or something horrible.”_

_“Your sister can be very cruel to him at times. Anyway, he doesn’t want her to know so we should respect that and give him his privacy.”_

Dawn was sniffing again. Buffy was about to stand up and suggest Dawn use a handkerchief when her sister dropped a bombshell. _“He can’t retire. It’s not like he’s really old or anything.”_

_“Not at all. He looks so healthy. So vigorous. So manly.”_

Buffy felt like her heart had stopped. Giles was talking about retirement? Why, was he sick? No. He was like one of those toys you knock down and they get back up again. Giles was….Giles.

Andrew was consoling Dawn. _“And all because he wants to spend more time with…”_ Buffy heard a really big sigh _, “…with the woman he loves. A woman who doesn’t even know how he feels.”_

 _“That’s the most beautiful thing I know_ ,” wailed Dawn.

Loves? Buffy couldn’t believe her ears. Giles was in love? Giles had met someone? Who the hell could Giles have met? Buffy swallowed hard. Giles wanting to skip off and play house with some other woman was unthinkable, and for this to be some ungrateful woman who didn’t even know how he loved her… Buffy’s throat was very dry. He deserved better, he deserved….better.

 _“If only he could get up the nerve to ask her out on a date”_ she heard Andrew say. _“And enjoy_ _some time in the British countryside away from this place.  I think his favourite play is on at Stratford-upon-Avon too.”_

_“She’d turn him down though. It’s so sad.”_

Buffy was outraged. Who was this dreadful woman that was upsetting Giles? He couldn’t go and leave the Slayer School and all the Slayers that depended on him. He needed to get this out of his system, the woman was probably a demon or a gold digger anyway. It was time for Buffy to take action.

  
  
  
**Act One Scene Three** ****

Buffy had to wait till the coast was clear, but when Dawn and Andrew had wandered out of sight; she picked up her heels and headed straight for the men’s locker room. Giles hadn’t yet showered and was still in his sweats contemplating something or other as she flung the door open.

“Giles. I want you…”

He jumped about two feet and went a sort of beetroot colour and crashed backwards into the benches. “Oh god here?” he exclaimed in a higher pitched voice than normal. “Now? I mean, I mean I don’t think I can…can…”

It had been a while since she’d heard him stammer quite so much. She hadn’t realised how much she missed it. It was very cute.

She took a deep breath and said “I want you to know I’m sorry we fought before and that I… I….” The Buffy Book of Apologies was an appallingly slim volume, and Buffy realised she’d run out of material lamentably early in the conversation. “That I… I…”

Giles looked puzzled. “That You…You…?”

She pulled herself. “I mean if there’s ever anything I can do for you. You only have to ask.” She smiled as warmly at him as she could.

“…Only have to ask…” he seemed to be adrift in studying her face.

“Yes. We’ve been friends for a long time now. You can tell me anything you know. I’m Buffy. I’m all grown up now.”

“…All grown up now…”

“Why are you are repeating everything I say?”

“…Everything you say…Sorry. Oh right yes, me too. I mean I was always the grown up part. Not the Buffy part. Um.” He paused for breath. “I’m sorry about before too.” It had been a while since he’d been so shy around anyone. He was going all kinds of strange shades of red too. There was a deeply awkward silence as Giles looked at her shoes. Buffy looked at his jaw line and the nice place his dimples sometimes formed. He had the softest eyelashes too. Funny how she’d never noticed those before.

Giles cleared his throat with a cough that sounded a bit like he’d said “ _more assertive you berk_ ”, and looked up to return her eye contact. His green eyes shone brightly. “Buffy, I was wondering if you’d do me the very great honour of accompanying me to the theatre?”

“Me?” Buffy squeaked. He wanted to go with her? Dawn and Andrew had said he was in love with someone who didn’t know…. And the theatre. He’d specifically mentioned the theatre. The idea that Giles wanted to spend time with her was …a total shock. He couldn’t be in love with…in love with…?

“You,” he confirmed though his confidence was being knocked at her hesitation. “Buffy, I’d like it very much like it if we could go to the theatre together. In a going together sort of capacity.”

A going together sort of capacity? His whole nervousness could mean only one thing. What she’d overheard was totally true.  He was completely and totally in love with her.

“If that’s what you want, Giles,” she managed to say carefully.

“Yes, that’s what I want if that’s what you want, Buffy,” he replied with equal care.

“OK then,” she replied. The man was in love with her. No question.

“I’ll go make all the arrangements then,” he said and when Buffy didn’t move to leave the locker room he added, “After I’ve showered and changed.” She still didn’t move. “Which I’ll do here in the Men’s Locker Room.”

“Oh.” Buffy turned a little pink as she thought of all the implications. “I’ll, I’ll…”

“Go now?” Giles said helpfully.

“Yes.” She grasped the suggestion gratefully and fled.

  
  
  
**Act Two Scene** **One**

Work commitments (which in Buffy’s case meant a vampire nest outside of Warwick), meant they arranged to travel separately and meet in Stratford on the afternoon of the play. It was a warm spring day and Buffy had picked out the sundress she’d bought in Paris the previous year. She was pretty sure Giles hadn’t seen it before as their relationship largely clothed itself in sweats or midnight prowling wear. It made a nice change to be feminine and the British climate was being supportive in her choice, conjuring up a perfectly blue sky for her.

Buffy had arrived early and eaten lunch in the beer garden of a public house that looked old enough to have carded Shakespeare himself. Her table gave her a pleasant view over the river and she watched the ducks pan-handling the tourists for bread. There were a lot of people milling around the picturesque canal boats that were doing a roaring trade in ice-cream cones and chilled drinks.

“Um… hello, Buffy.”

Buffy had been so lost in thought she actually startled at the sound of Giles’ deep voice.  During the hours of darkness such reverie could have been fatal, but daylight was Buffy’s dreaming time. She turned to greet Giles but was taken aback at the effort he’d made for their day out. He wore light linen slacks, a white shirt and jaunty tie combo, and a dark blue blazer that she resolved to rid him of at the first opportunity. He hadn’t looked quite so English for years.

“Um,” he repeated and she realised she hadn’t actually said anything in return.

“Hi, Giles.” She smiled. “Here we are then.”

“Yes. On our um…”

“Day out?” she suggested.

“Day out. Yes.” He seemed to jump on that phrase rather eagerly. There was a long silence as Giles continued to stand, and fidget, and then put his hands in his pockets. “How’s it going for you so far?”

“Way awkward,” she confessed with no small relief.

“It is a bit, isn’t it…” Giles smiled. A coach pulled up outside and two dozen tourists began to fill into the beer garden beside them. The noise level went up a decibel in a matter of moments. “Shall we go for a walk instead?”

Buffy nodded in relief and grabbed her purse by way of answer.

  
  
  
  
**Act Two Scene Two**

They walked in silence through the crowds, pushing out and away from the shops with ice-cream and bawling children. Giles picked a cobbled alley between two whitewashed buildings leading them out to a semi-gravelled path and a coppiced wood carpeted with a dazzling display of bluebells. The delicate blue curls of the spring flowers dipped out to meet them everywhere. England had a gentle charm in its nature. On continuous viewing Buffy wondered how she’d ever thought it dull and stuffy. She’d lived there two seasons now and Nature seemed determined to work more delicately here than anywhere else she’d known.

They came out of the woodland and walked down towards a rowing boat concession. To Buffy’s surprise Giles impulsively went forward to hire one.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked nervously. Buffy was always a little wary when she didn’t have solid ground under her feet.

“Trust me,” Giles said simply as they walked to the end of the small jetty where the narrow row boats bobbed obediently for customers. Each boat had recently had a fresh coat of varnish lovingly applied over the rich wood and they all looked rather jaunty in the sun. Giles loosened the ties of the end boat, scrambled aboard and helped Buffy down by the elbow.

“It’s an absolutely perfect day for it,” Giles declared happily. He made for the oars but Buffy grabbed for one first and asked, “Shouldn’t I do the rowing?”

“Certainly not.”

“You can’t row in that jacket.”

He considered this. “Good point.” Standing up to remove the blazer caused the boat to rock alarmingly. Buffy instinctively grabbed for the sides whilst Giles carried on oblivious to her distress.

His fresh white shirt caught the sun as he pulled down the tie to free his top button, undid the cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. He sat facing her. “Is that better?” he asked. It certainly was. Giles smiled rather playfully. “I’ll row while you watch for any vampires that jump at us from the riverbank.”

“Deal,” she agreed thoughtfully and settled into the bow of the boat, shamelessly using his blazer as a cushion and trying to quash the sense of having just stepped into a Merchant-Ivory film. She blinked at the name of their small craft. Each of the small rowing boats had an appropriately Shakespearian name freshly painted for the start of the tourist season and theirs was called Ophelia.

“Let’s hope that’s not an omen,” said Giles.

Buffy’s forehead frowned up her entire knowledge of Shakespeare.

“Why?”

“She drowned,” he grinned.

“Funny guy,” she retorted and relaxed. This was just Giles after all. Giles she trusted. Giles in really nice pants.

He pushed away from the bank with an undeniable amount of skill and let them drift to the centre of the river. The oars rocked in the rowlocks until Giles caught the smooth hang of the motion and they began their journey up the river into the sun. Buffy reclined to watch in comfort. He looked so much better without the blazer. He’d had his hair cut since they’d spoken last which was sweet. It surprised her to realise she had always noticed such things about Giles without really _noticing_. As he pulled on the oars he seemed able to judge the correct depth and he always flattened the blades between strokes. The man had hidden talents.

“You’re very good at this.”

“Surprised?” If she didn’t know him better she’d have said he’d given her a cheeky grin. Buffy decided the best policy was to ignore it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on a river with anyone before. It’s so peaceful.”

“It is peaceful. I used to take one of the single sculls out early mornings when I went back to Oxford,” as he talked a family of ducks clung to the bank braced for the gentle wake of the boat. The youngest of the brood was barely distinguishable from a tiny ball of fluff. “It was something I enjoyed doing by myself,” he continued, “Something that wasn’t about the Council or my degree. A release from the pressure and the expectations.”

“Something just for you?”  Buffy understood that pleasure. She stretched her toes out of her sandals and leaned back contentedly listening to the swish of water as they journeyed into a magical land of gentle green grass and respectful trees dipping their blossom into the water around them. She was starting to feel very Helena Bonham-Carter about the afternoon.

“We should have brought a picnic,” she suggested dreamily.

Giles dropped his head and looked over his glasses at her. “And feed every duck in a two mile radius? I think not,” he said.

“I could get used to this though.”

“I think my arms will get tired before then.”

“Oh please, you’re as healthy as an ox. An ox in glasses. A glaring ox in glasses who’s pretending he’s not enjoying being teased.” She giggled and Giles beamed. She’d busted him on that.

They travelled further up the river in a silence broken only by birdsong and the rhythm of the oars in the water. A huge swan came elegantly in the opposite direction, displaying its drying feathers knowing its role as the prima ballerina of the corps. Giles left off one oar to let it pass. It bobbed its haughty head slightly and was gone.

“Beautiful,” sighed Buffy.

“Yes they are, though swans can be a bit of a handful if you stray too near a nest. They can be very aggressive, and you can’t see what’s going on with them - under the surface I mean. Oh,” Giles was grinning again, “I can see why you like them so much.”

She stuck out her tongue and then laughed and watched him pull on the oars with perfect precision. The sun was behind him and occasionally it dappled sufficiently to show the definition of his muscles through his white shirt. He was in great shape and Buffy followed every contour of his body as he worked. She approved of his latest haircut too. She couldn’t remember when she’d started to watch his grooming habits but she always knew when he’d changed something about his appearance. He never kept his hair really long, but she liked the way he let it bounce on his forehead and even the hint of grey among the warm chestnut colour. She knew how it curled slightly around the back of his ears and smiled to herself.

Giles turned slightly to check the route of the river, his glasses catching the sunlight. Not the horrible ones he used to wear on patrol, but the nice ones with the thin frames that showed off the intensity of his green eyes. There was loyalty in those eyes she thought, loyalty, courage, and yes, love.

“What?” He’d caught her staring. It was a warm day and she was being insensitive to his needs.

“Just thinking how hot you look.” He missed his stroke slightly and a spray of water hit the boat. She shrieked playfully then moved carefully forward and pulled down the knot of his tie and released it from his collar. She placed a hand on his chest to steady herself and undid the top two buttons on his shirt. “Is that better?” she asked softly.

“Much, though….” Giles had stopped rowing and was gripping the oars with some indecision. Finally he smiled at her and it was as if the sun had snuck out through a break in the clouds and lit up the world. He didn’t smile nearly enough and Buffy found it intoxicating. He blinked before his eyes sought out her further permission. “Do we carry on or let the current drift us back to where we were before?”

Buffy quite forgot everything. “We definitely go on.”

 

 

 **Act Two Scene Three** ****

Andrew was a nervous bundle of excitement when he sought out Dawn in her favourite place to study, the kitchenette of the Slayer school.

“How do you think it’s going?” he asked.

Dawn smiled into her book. “I’m sure they are getting on just fine.”

“Who are?” asked the girl making toast at the counter. Helen Greaves was a seventeen year-old English slayer who had more interest in research than in killing things. She haunted the library and the kitchens and consequently, in the sprit of freedom of choice and the fact she was the only one who could make a decent pot of tea, Giles had let her pick her own curriculum. “How’s what going?”

Andrew had evidently been bursting to tell someone. “We sent Buffy and Giles out on a date to sort out their problems,” he practically squealed.

“Buffy and Mr Giles?” Helen repeated with considerably less squeal. “Buffy Summers and Mr Giles?” she clarified.

“You think that’s bad?” Dawn was nervous.

“No. I can see there’s something between those two. I just can’t believe the pair of you could set them up.”

“Gadzooks,” exclaimed Andrew. “Of course we could. It’s the most romantic thing ever. Think Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. Think Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.”

“Anyone in Technicolor?” asked a sceptical Helen but Andrew hadn’t finished.

“Think Cary Grant and pretty much everybody.”

“So how did you do it?”

Cupid’s anointed assassin looked proudly at her. “A few words here, a few clues there. And bam. A day out in Stratford-upon-Avon; treading on every blade of grass that Shakespeare himself might have stood on. It’s so romantic. They are going to the theatre together. My friend in the box office promised me it was a romantic comedy. They are going to love it.”

“Actually you never told me,” interrupted Dawn, “What did you get tickets for?”

“Much Ado About Nothing.” Andrew declared innocently. Helen started to giggle and then to laugh rather raucously.

Dawn stood up in panic. “We’re dead.”

“Why?” asked Andrew.

“Beatrice and Benedick! That’s priceless,” spluttered Helen.

“Why?” asked Andrew.

“Think Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson,” Helen advised. .

The penny dropped for Andrew, “Oh brother.”

Dawn was all action and flap. “Call the box office. Leave a message there’s an apocalypse. They can’t go see that play. If Buffy and Giles figure it out, we’re dead. Call them. Tell them anything. Oh we are so dead.”

 

 

 **Act Three Scene** **One**

Buffy’s world was spinning a little backwards and she loved every minute of it. They journeyed peacefully until the warnings of a weir across the river meant Giles reluctantly worked the left oar till they turned and headed back to the concession. Buffy trailed a hand in the cold river and wondered how she could stop the moment from ever ending. All too soon Giles bumped the boat gently to the side of the jetty to return Ophelia to her home. He slipped out with surprising grace and offered his hand to help Buffy. She took it and surprised him in turn by not letting him go. He was perspiring a little and Buffy found it oddly attractive as they walked back to the woodland path that had let them escape from the rest of the world. Giles, with his blazer casually slung over one shoulder and his other hand filled with Buffy, looked so incredibly content that she suddenly felt her eyes moisten.

“Are you alright?” It was typical of Giles to notice her mood change and Buffy plunged into a pool of guilt over how she’d never appreciated him before now. She stopped with her back against a solid elm tree and pretended to clear her left shoe of a stone as she composed herself. Giles waited patiently and leaned against the same tree as she stood on one leg.

The English Spring was a fragile season and the sun was giving a final curtain call behind them. The temperature was dropping too and Buffy could see the artificial lights of the streets and shops begin to stir to life back in the town. The world and their responsibilities were waiting to engulf them, snatch them away from the magic.

“Am I going too fast?” he asked. His voice was low and close to her ear. Buffy felt a little thrill of nervousness.

“Not at all.” She was breathing rather heavily. “We’re nearly back at the theatre. Look, I can see the lights up ahead.”

Giles didn’t look instead he leaned a little closer to her. He was close enough to touch her and Buffy wanted to feel him, to have him run his fingers down her arm, to hold her, to … She overbalanced in her anticipation, wobbled on one leg and grabbed for his arm. Giles snorted a little laugh as Buffy bent to replace her shoe. “Are we going to be late for the play?” she questioned to cover her embarrassment.

“Possibly. Do you still want to see it?”

That was a good question. Buffy didn’t want to sit in a packed auditorium listening to some Shakespearean twaddle. Her intellect was the last thing she wanted to engage right now. But then he’d been the one that wanted to see this particular Shakespeare play. She hadn’t even asked him which one it was.

“Buy a girl a drink in the theatre bar?” she teased, taking his hand again to lead him back to the town.

He grinned, pushed off from the tree and seemed happy to let her take him wherever she wanted to. “Certainly, I’ll even throw in a packet of crisps if you like,” he answered.

“Smooth talking rich guy. I’m not so easily bought.” She turned her head playfully. “Cheese and onion flavor though, right?”

  
  
  
  
**Act Three Scene Two**

The Crush Bar in the theatre seemed well named to Buffy. All the ticket holders had squeezed into the one room in chatty excitement of the performance and there wasn’t much space to be had anywhere. Giles had somehow managed to get served despite the throng at the bar and found Buffy near a supporting pillar in the middle of the room. They faced each other and sipped their wine in unexpectedly close quarters, loud voices washed around them threatening to spoil their intimacy. Buffy wanted to be back in the woods, or on the boat; somewhere she could have Giles to herself anyway. There were too many people squeezed around her to make any sort of escape now.

“Must be a popular production,” Giles said.

“I guess.” Buffy drained her wine glass.

“What’s wrong?” Maybe it hadn’t been a very subtle gesture but then she could never hide from him. Not even when they’d first met and he claimed to be befuddled by the cultural and age gaps. Those gaps had long gone now.

“I feel like I’ve known you all my life,” she began, “but I’ve never really known you until today.” She dropped her voice and Giles stooped down a little to hear her from the hundreds of people that swirled around them. “Is this wrong?” she asked.

“Technically you haven’t known me all your life,” he started.

“In the part that matters I have.”

“Buffy, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about today. I’d wipe the world away if I thought it was making you unhappy.”

“You always do that. You always make everything about me, but I don’t know what you want, Giles.”

“I want very much for this to be real. And of course everything is about you.” He bent very close to her ear and whispered.

“Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour  
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,  
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour  
When you have bid your servant once adieu;  
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought  
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,  
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought  
Save, where you are how happy you make those.”

Buffy’s heart had stopped and world seemed to stopped spinning around them. Giles was intimately close, in a crowded room making love to her. Nothing could spoil the perfect joy of the moment.

_“Ladies and Gentleman, The auditorium is now open. Please have your tickets ready and make your way to your seats. We hope you enjoy tonight’s performance.”_

 

 

**Act Three Scene Three**

“Buffy, stop please.” She shrugged off Giles’ hand on her shoulder and squeezed round the people heading down the stairs. “We have to talk about this.” She could hear Giles plead but she was too agile for him in the throng of the audience making their way to their cars and their late suppers. She was being rude to people and cutting them but the tears were already streaming down her face and she needed to be out into the night air and free.

It had all been lies, humiliating, and callous lies. She had been forced to watch characters on stage make fools of themselves because of interfering friends, forced to listen as the auditorium roared with laughter and approval of the deceit and the embarrassment. Every laugh was on her.  She’d only looked at Giles once for his reaction, quickly stealing a glance to see him looking grimly ahead, anger flushing his face. It was the final confirmation, if such a thing be needed, that Giles had been duped too. Their entire day was based on a hideous lie with her and Giles forced to perform like actors, no like puppets at Andrew and Dawn’s bidding. She broke free of the theatre at last and started to run, not really caring where. She took side roads and found herself out on an unlit trunk road and continued to run as fast as she could. Cars overtook her, one beeped its horn but she ran on with a determination to get herself some distance and anonymity in the night.

She took a right turn and then another at a fingerpost promising a footpath uphill to somewhere. The ground became muddy and she wished she’d brought more appropriate shoes. Her dress became stained as the mud flew under her feet but she ran onwards and upwards into the night sky. Damn Dawn. What was she doing conspiring with Andrew like that? Was it some huge joke to her? Was it some form of revenge for being made to move to England? Buffy streaked the back of her hand across her eyes. How could her sister do a thing like this to her?

The hill was partitioned into two across its summit by a high stone wall. Buffy’s path crossed by way of a wooden ladder stile which tore her dress at the hem. She swore as she turned to view her way down. The path was steeper this side but cut into rocky steps. Steps that led down to the river and a string of lights that signalled the rowboat concession they’d visited earlier. She ground her teeth at the way fate continued to mock her and made her way carefully down.

There wasn’t a soul around for miles. All the boats had been chained and covered as she walked up the wooden pier and idly looked for theirs. Ophelia was still at the end where they’d left her. Buffy felt a sense of relief that no-one else had taken her out on the water since. She sat on pier and dangled her feet over the edge Huckleberry Finn style and waited.

She sat there for half an hour before she felt the wooden planking shake with the motion of an approach. She knew it was Giles without looking. She knew his shoes and the length of his gait, and naturally being Giles, he cleared his throat by way of warning her of his approach.

“We have to talk about this, Buffy.” She remained silent and watched the gently lapping dark river. “I went to your car. I waited there for an hour until some twelve year-old policeman moved me on.” Giles stood next to her with his hands in his pockets. “If it helps I’ve figured out a way of killing Andrew and disposing of the body in such a way that it will never be found.”

“Go away Giles. It hurts too much.”

Instead Giles took this as an invitation to sit. He scrambled down next to her but left a respectful space between. His legs were longer than hers and his clean white linen pants contrasted her muddy torn dress and shoes. Buffy didn’t move.

“I booked us into a hotel for the night. Two rooms,” he added. “Or we can just drive home if you prefer.”

“Whatever Buffy wants, eh? Well what I want is for this day to have never happened. Can you do that for me?”

He leaned forward with his hands together about his knees. “Was it really so bad?”

“It was all lies. One big fat lie built on top of another. This was all stupid. I’m stupid. You’re stupid for believing Dawn and Andrew. This isn’t us. This isn’t how I feel about you.”

“Oh.” He looked a little hurt and produced his inevitable handkerchief to begin cleaning his glasses. “In that case I think we need to stop training together then.”

“What? Why?”

“Because we don’t actually train do we? All we do is argue.” He seemed to work a particularly tough spot on the left lens. “Did you know Wednesday afternoons aren’t actually a half day holiday? Everyone just clears out because we make them uncomfortable.”

“If you weren’t such a jerk about being perfect they wouldn’t have to. It wasn’t like this when we trained in the library.”

He finished his glasses. “That’s because I used to let you win then.”

Buffy was outraged. “I kicked your ass fair and square.”

“And it did your confidence the world of good to think that.”

“You…you.”  Buffy turned in anger to see Giles was smirking. “You dirty devious liar, Rupert Giles.” She flushed warmly at his boyish grin. He looked different without his glasses to hide behind but she went on the attack. “This is entirely your fault you know.”

“My fault how?”

“If you weren’t so completely gullible none of this would have happened. But no, you overhear Buffy wants you to make love to her and you go off all half-cocked. Servicing the Slayer. OK, that doesn’t sound right, but that’s what you were doing, or would have done.” She blushed at some unwanted imagery and fought to escape to safer ground, “I mean, thank god they didn’t pick Macbeth. There’s no telling who you’d have murdered for me.”

“There’s still Andrew,” Giles muttered as he pushed away his handkerchief and then opted to stow his glasses in his blazer pocket also.  He leaned backwards onto his hands and stretched his legs rather arrogantly.

“Firstly, you should know by now that I’m very particular about the women I choose to make love to and that I by no means do it to order. Secondly,” at this point his smile began to remind her of Ripper, “I must remind you that it wasn’t all one-way traffic. You were flirting with me too.” His green eyes dangerously provoked her to deny it.

Buffy took several angry breaths. “You are the most insufferable man I know. I was merely trying to have a nice day out with a very very old friend.”  The attempted insult flew past its mark as Giles just cocked his head on one side and beamed back at her. His whole smug attitude prompted Buffy to have a horrible thought, “Oh my god, are you doing Taming of the Shrew now?”

He burst out laughing, his wrists gave way and he lay back on the pier causing the wooden structure to rumble with him and Buffy to giggle too. She raised a knee to rest her chin on and turned to look at him. Laughing on his back was probably ruining his nice clothes she realised maliciously.

“Sorry,” he snorted. “No, certainly nothing Shrewish I promise.” He giggled some more. “Actually I’m just relieved Andrew and Dawn didn't pick Twelfth Night.”

“Why? What happens in that one?”

“Oh in that one the servant is persuaded that his mistress wants him to express his love somewhat ardently for her.” Buffy raised an eyebrow. “She naturally thinks his wits are gone and has him locked up as a lunatic.”

Buffy considered this for a moment. “Your guy Shakespeare had kind of a broad definition of comedy.” She waggled a finger at him. “And I still have time if you keep laughing at me like this.”

“Sorry, quite.” He coughed and sat up again. They were suddenly very close to each other under an obliging moon. “Do you still wish today hadn’t happened?” he asked gently.

“I wish I could trust this,” she admitted. “Two days ago we were yelling at each. Can feelings change that quickly?”

“Mine haven’t changed.”

“But today has made everything different. You’re very sweet.” He dropped his head a little at her choice of ‘sweet’. “But two days ago you were nagging me about training because you wanted me to be ‘The Perfect Slayer’. All you wanted then was for me to be in shape to prevent the next apocalypse.” She looked him deeply in the eyes. “I think you just want Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so I can keep the world from ending,” she said quietly.

Giles took an age to answer and when he did he couldn’t keep the emotion from his voice. “What I want is for you to keep **my** world from ending. You are my perfection. You are my beauty. You are my world and I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” Giles’ gruff yet fragile voice revealed everything to her in an instant. She remembered their last training session. Each quick to defensiveness, trading words calculated to wound instead of actions designed to show how they felt. Neither wanting to be the one to say let’s not do this thing. They’d danced every Wednesday for the past two months and looked for excuses not to because the physicality of their relationship had changed. They’d been doing quite the wrong sort of training entirely and Giles had known it. Giles, she suddenly understood, had not fallen in love with her just that day.

It was impulse. It was instinct. It was totally pleasure-seeking but Buffy found her lips on Giles’ and his hand in her hair, and she was home, in England, in Giles’ arms and the world had found the correct axis to spin on just for her.

She came up for air and rested her forehead on his nose. “I love you Rupert Giles. How do you think your date is going so far?” she whispered.

“I’d say things are definitely looking up.”

He gave her the cheeky grin again. The one that promised so much and Buffy’s skipping heart told her she wanted to share everything completely with this man she’d found.

“Two hotel rooms, Giles?”

Giles stroked her hair and neck and whispered.

“Being your slave, what should I do but tend  
Upon the hours and times of your desire?  
I have no precious time at all to spend,  
Nor services to do, till you require.”

 

 

_The End_

 

  


 


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